The Pawn's Perspective
by sakhara291
Summary: rating for violence and sex later on. She has been trapped in hell for five millenia, and he to mortal life, for crimes they had no choice but to commit. When she escapes, is their love strong enough- against all odds?
1. 1

It all seems strangely simple 

_When you try to play the game._

_The pawns are on the chessboard_

_And the chessboard stays the same. _

_The ones who win are the ones who see_

_The chessboard from an altered view._

_For pawns fight back, and knights go slack_

_And Fate turns things askew._

_There are few things for sure_

_But two strategists are in this game we know so well-_

_One is pure and Heaven sent_

_The other lives in Hell._

_- Danielle Hendrixton, The Pawn's Perspective_

She stepped inside, closing the great gate behind her noiselessly. A feat, considering the weight of Hogwart's doors. Her cloak swirled around her feet as she pulled her hood down, light glittering off the crushed velvet. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, wary. She strode to the headmaster's office in a rush, salt and pepper hair flying out of it's loose bun. The gargoyles stood staunchly for a moment, causing her to wave her hand in irritation. They moved slowly, allowing her entrance. They could not deny their maker. She entered the headmaster's office with the same breakneck pace, stopping in the open doorway. If she was surprised that he was standing there, waiting for her, she didn't show it. They were long past the stage where they surprised each other. 

"What happened?" he gently undid the clasp of her cloak and hung it on the rack next to the door. She was a pale shadow of the woman he'd met fifty years ago, new lines on her face, grey in her hair, exhaustion in her eyes.

"Have you heard? Did you feel? She's broken free." Her voice was quieter than usual.

"I felt it," he replied. "Where is she going?"

"She swore to me that if- _when_ she got out, she'd find him. I'm afraid she may seek him in Lord Voldemort."

"Tom Riddle cannot control her, Byanei."

"No," she looked him in the eyes momentarily, signifying the gravity of the situation. Even though the contact was brief, it still sent shudders down his spine. "But I fear he might appeal to her lust for power, and if they were to combine their strengths, we've no hope."

"I never met Arawan. I have no way to tell you where he is."

"Tom Riddle is not Arawan. But the magical signature she's looking for is in your grounds, Albus."

"How do you mean?"

"He is in the Order of the Phoenix. You must make a way to bring him to Hogwarts without suspicion- we cannot allow them to find each other."

"You are a difficult taskmistress, love," he smiled in dry humor.

Her lips turned upwards slightly as she shook her head. "Let me explain to you what you are up against." With that, she caressed his cheek gently, the touch reminiscent of a lover's, and he closed his eyes as the vision rose in his mind.

***

"Ranistaka!" The name shot like a crack of thunder, and the woman stopped dead in her tracks, hand immediately to the hilt of her sword. He froze a moment later, and they turned as one to face back at the speaker. The man who had called out was mortal, unafraid, for there were many behind him and only two to slay. The pair faced each other, The woman spoke so softly it couldn't be heard, and the man shook his head as he replied. They continued in their quiet, hurried discussion for a few moments. He silenced her with a heated kiss and they stepped back, drawing swords. The woman slid a dagger down the sleeve of her cloak and slung it at the speaker, catching him in the throat. All hell broke loose as the warriors charged down upon the pair in murderous rage, unable to touch them. Mowed down like grass. He watched in silence as they fought, in perfect unison with each other, a hundred men slaughtered by two. The vision faded, and he opened his eyes slowly to see hers turn away.

"They are a flawless team of destruction. We must find them both. Now."

The door opened, and she spun around, staring directly into his eyes. She was too shocked to turn her gaze, and he grunted as a surge of lust rattled his body. Her eyes were beautiful. But he recognized them, and the fires of passion and pure rage coursed through him, trying his common sense. With quite an effort, he averted his gaze, looking at Albus instead, who also stared at him with a look of shell- shocked recognition. 

"What?" Severus Snape growled, feeling defensive and uneasy. Blood was matting his hair and making his hands sticky. It wasn't like Albus had never seen him like this before.


	2. 2

_"And if you wanna know where I've been, just look at my hands."_

_ -Lynyrd Skynyrd, Red White & Blue_

It was a minor character flaw of hers that she was obsessed with hands. They were perfect to her- in death, in life. Whole and complete, they were just mesmerizing as the bones alone. The intricate lines made as the blood ran into the crevices of the fingernails, down the sides of the fingers, between the knuckles, following the bones, filling the lines and crevices of the palm majestically. The soft, flexible sharpness of the fingernails. The mechanics of these tools intrigued her. And hers were perfect. The nails were rough and jagged, the tips boxed and blunt, the fingers thick and short with knotty joints, with well muscled palms, the lines etching deep into the skin. The firm grip was pockmarked by various cut and burn scars in various stages of healing. They were not beautiful, nor elegant, but they were perfect. 

She brought a rough halt to her reflection when she splashed the cold water on her face, letting it run down in rivers. Like blood, like wine, like water. Cold and caressing, two things that she had not felt in a long while. She had spent so many years battling up the hierarchy of hell that she had forgotten. Clouds, water, loneliness, peace. The silence had made her scream. And in the first mirror she'd seen in two millennia, she smiled, however maliciously. An eternity of hellfire had yet to thaw her icy eyes, or her broken heart. And in the gargantuan sword at her side, she'd brought a little of it back to seek revenge on those who'd imprisoned her.

But first things first. It was time to meet he who called himself the devil.

[A/N: Thank you, Jen, for forcing me to continue. This is short, all these chapters will be short, but I don't know how long this will be. It just seems wrong to switch viewpoints within a single chapter. And she's not verbose.]


	3. 3

_"She changed me_

_Completely _

_Now who have I been?_

_She broke me_

_So cleanly_

_Tell me what I am"_

_- Kat McCoy, The Break_

"You can't be serious. I can't," Severus Snape's words died in the air, the silence completely repressive. Byanei refused to even look in his direction, facing out the window instead. He was subconsciously fascinated with her profile, and found himself staring. She was older than Minerva, for Merlin's sake…

But her complexion was beautiful, ivory and cream, with aristocratic cheekbones and a delicately shaped nose, full lips. There was a stillness in her that spoke of pain. In her eyes…

"Weren't your eyes silver?"

She smiled slightly, bowing her head before looking back at her own reflection.

"They have not been since we last met."

"Do not blame me for the consequences of your actions, Byanei."

The quiet of the room froze into an oppressive nothingness. She turned to face him, and for a brief moment, pupil met pupil.

*How strange- I don't remember this. You will not tell me her name, but I have loved her in my dreams all my life. And you, you, you… You took her away from me…*

He stood and purposefully strode forward, grabbed her by the shoulders, and slammed her back into the wall. Her head turned sideways automatically, and he grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at him, the plaster in the wall crunching with the strength of his grip.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Ranistaka. Your sister. My soul. Where is she?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Blue met with black, breath to breath, hate to hate. Deep in the recesses of his mind, he saw Hell. Her sword. He heard her scream.

Without a word, he dropped Byanei, spun on his heel, and strode towards the door.

"Severus, stop!" Albus commanded.

"MY NAME IS NOT SEVERUS!" he roared, spinning in the doorway. Books, parchments, and plaster flew with the strength of his magic. He was all caviar and cordiality the next moment. "And though I thank you for your offer to allow me residence at Hogwarts, I must, regretfully, decline."

He disappeared from the door.

"I cannot keep them apart, if they actively seek each other." Byanei stood, shaken. "But I shall do my best. Hurry."

With that, she left, leaving Albus to the remains of his office.


	4. 4

The station was as crowded as it could have possibly been. She was used to masses of bodies in a small amount of space, so it really didn't, it really couldn't, bother her. No worse than Hell. Not even close. 

She knew that his realm had changed a million times since she'd been cast from it, and with the time difference between the two realms, she'd had ample time to keep up with them. The wads of bills in her pocket, she knew, were more than enough to keep her through a week, if she spent it wisely. She didn't envy the corporate slob she'd left in the alleyway. He should have certainly known better than to consider her a prostitute, and he should have had far more decency than to bed a woman he had not wed before noon on the day of the Christian lord.

Not that she honestly cared. He served her purpose.

She'd bought a pair of black jeans, slightly baggier than she was used to, but comfortable, and the shirt was black as well, sleeveless. It was comfortable. That was all she really gave a damn about. Her sword fit well through the loopholes, the scabbard comfortingly hitting against the side of her left leg, her fingers delicately curled around its breadth, keeping it in check from hitting any passersby. No one need accidentally be slaughtered by the thing. That would be far too conspicuous, and she could not afford the delays it would cause.

People generally got out of her way, saving for the few imbeciles who could not fathom the magic and lethal aura she possessed. They found themselves tripping over the force of her physical blows- never would she move out of the way of a lesser being!

She smiled as she saw him, and he saw her, but there was no emotion in the expression. She hid it well. He considered it a sign of welcoming- he had been warned to expect her. Cropped, golden blonde hair, reminiscent of the Gauls and the Normans, eyes a crystal blue, oozing charm and vile.

He was once handsome. It would make it all the more enjoyable.

Her stride toward him picked up as he moved toward her. When they were barely a breath apart, his wand too far for reach, she gripped her sword, only the dagger length she needed, and unsheathed it, grabbing his face with her left hand and slicing through his neck, effortlessly, with the other. 

She continued as though there had never been a pause, leaving his decapitated body spurting blood in the now- panicked station, sheathing her sword and walking away so fluidly that no one even saw her go.

She let out a full fledged laugh as she walked out the doors and down the limestone steps- she hoped his master received the message.


	5. 5

Severus charged out of Hogwarts castle, still covered in blood from his Dark Revel, the life as a death eater, the mortality that moments ago had left him. Blood spilled across the grass and he shuddered at his own wake, the premonitions and the memories flooding through him.

The memories were flooding through him in half shot visions, her face smeared in blood, smirking, the infant screaming on a battlefield dead and burning.

She had killed it. She had killed it. She had stomped this child and burned it and scattered it to the four winds.

He remembered laughing at her wasted time.

Her sword spun in the most beautiful dance he'd ever seen.

Blood and blood and blood and blood….. He was sick of blood.

He found himself screaming into the night air, tears spilling down his cheeks, pain and fear and anger all melding into one solitary sound in the dead night.

_Who are you?!_

"She was built to be a wargoddess. You know that."

He didn't look back, seeing Byanei's reflection clearly enough in the water.

"Leave." For all the emotional turmoil, his voice was solid.

"She will never love you the way that I do. All she knows is hate. It sickens you to remember, now. She will not have improved, if anything, she will have become worse. She has killed already."

"She is what she is," he sighed, turning to look at her. "And she feigns nothing else. You condemned your sister for her lover, Byanei, and the fates will never forgive you that."

"I do not need them to," she whispered. "The only forgiveness I seek is yours."

"You have what you want," he snarled, turning away. "The human race rendered desiring at your glance. It was fitting for her to give you."

He stood, silencing her with a glare, and she suddenly realized that the curse could not affect him, knowing it was there. 

"Ranistaka would see you dead, and with right, and I will aid her in any way I can. If you touch her, I will see to your fate far more thoroughly than she did." He started walking towards the gates.

"She cannot love you! Why do you waste time?" she screamed after him.

He laughed, heartfelt and throaty, but oddly menacing, as he turned. "She does. And nothing you do can make me believe otherwise. You, Byanei, moon goddess, third daughter of Lunasa, with the blood of an elf and the fae, are, in your own way, far less redeemable than all the world's blood on your sister's head could make her. What excuse do you have?"

He turned for the last time, striding confidently toward the gates, his hand controlling the sword he hadn't consciously realized was at his side. It was habit.

"Arawn, you fool," Byanei hissed, trying to control the angry tears.


	6. 6

Ranistaka drank her shot in the dark slowly, with great relish, as she watched the dreary, grey London street pass by. It wasn't raining, so she had pulled up a chair on the streetside patio, waiting to watch him walk by. He had never seen her in person, and she'd have to call out to him. But no worry. He'd walk this way, eventually.

The loan of power to Tom Riddle was an unfortunate thing, in the long run. But what was she expected to do? Summoning the most ancient of spells, he had summoned her, the Satan, from the very bowels of Hell. A mortal, speaking her tongue. He'd given up presuming to control her in the first few hours. He was not Arawn- he sniveled too well at the threat of death, or even pain- but he'd become helpful, distracting her sister just enough so that Ranistaka could create a rift between the realms and come back. Being exiled didn't mean she couldn't slip though, and Tom had been instrumental in her plans.

Not that she could ever admit that to him.

"She barked a harsh, rasping order at the street behind her, loud enough that time seemed to pause. The black-cloaked figure suddenly spun around, and stepped through the gate, sitting across from her while bowing. With a flick of her wrist, she dropped the hood from his face and raised her wards to include him. She had not acknowledged him yet, and he was too well trained to speak.

"If you regret his death so badly, leave," the English flowed from her like blood from a knife. "My way is the way of blood. You read the inscription yourself."

"Yes, I did," he replied, head bowed. "Though I understand the necessity."

"You underestimate those who follow you," she smirked. "Does this mean I must educate them myself?"

"I'd rather you didn't," he replied quietly, refusing to lift his head.

She let out a peel of laughter. "You will be undone by your own popularity complex, Riddle. While I am on your side, you cannot lose."

"But I never know," he finally lifted his head "whose side you are on."

"And that," she leaned forward, her expression burning with a malicious light, "is the general idea. How am I supposed to win when you're too weak to do anything?"

[A/N- thanks to all my marvelous reviewers, especially you, Jen, for pushing me through this. For those of you who don't know, a shot in the dark is a double shot of expresso with a cup of black coffee. It is typically the single most expensive (and strongest) cup of coffee a java shop has. And it's killer.]


	7. 7

_A sly smile graced her lips as she chuckled, deviously, catching his hand and taking it in her own. He raced after her, not sure where she was going, only knowing she was disappearing in the blinding whiteness of their surroundings, and suddenly the world fell into a burning blackness, and he heard her roar shatter the depths, red flame suddenly alighting everywhere he looked. Hell. She stood, sword in hand, next to him and a million miles away, as a strange demon- god advanced on her, grinning… devilishly. Swords met, and fire flashed, and the demons rose to absorb her amongst them, brought her to her knees swinging, and her eyes bored into his…_

He jolted awake from the nightmare, only to see that same pair of eyes boring down into his own. She seemed almost transparent, ghostly. Her face inches from his, pleading and reverent and afraid as he and he alone had ever seen her. He raised a hand to her face, but he passed through her body.

"You should not leave yourself for so long. They're seeking you."  
"I couldn't wait," she whispered apologetically. "I had to find you."

He kissed her then, not knowing what to say, and she suddenly seemed more solid, real. He clutched at her like a drowning man, and when he let go, there were tears in her eyes.

"I swear, I'll never let you go again." He whispered.

"Pray you never have to keep that promise," she smiled sadly, and turned to the side, as though startled.

Her apparition suddenly disappeared.

[A/N- okay, there's no way I could have explained this in context, so I'll explain it now. Severus is kinda dreaming.  She did not actually apparate to be with him.  It was more astral projection. There's a theory in shamanism that we live in both the spiritual and the physical plane simultaneously, and that the two are almost exactly alike, overlapping each other. So what happened is that she 'sent her spirit out' in search of him, and because the bond between their souls is so strong, she seemed almost solid, and he could see her. If they were not so connected, he might be able to sense her presence, but not physically see her or touch her. Hope that helps.]


	8. 8

She didn't sleep.

Rather, she would stand next to the doorway for extended periods of time, the light from the passing cars crossing her face in a depressingly violent motion. She didn't move often, but let Tom rest. She did not need to, but his sheer terror at her presence was exhausting, and she was not in the mood for him to see what she could do.

The clock read seconds till time. It was shockingly dark, for being seven in the morning.

Fifteen seconds.

She strode to the center of the room, noiselessly. 

Ten seconds. 

She cast the pentagram of fire, standing dead in the center- five seats, five demons, and one center. She continued to stand.

Four.

Three.

She bit her lip and let out the breath she'd been holding.

7: 06.

The flames suddenly shot, ceiling high and higher, engulfing her but not burning, and five shadows occurred in the points around her, placed in the thrones, and materialized into men. Horrible men, terrifying men, but men.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, hands placed in her lap, and they suddenly lowered to eye level, while the pedestal she had sat on rose to accommodate her change in height.

"Greetings, all," she smirked, the pedestal spinning so she could look them all in the eye. "Shall we begin?"

"I suppose if you insist, Ranistaka," Lucifer scowled. "If you really wish to risk discovery by demanding the entire Hierarchy be removed from Hell at once."

"I am in Hell. As are you. I apologize for the disappointment, Lucifer, but I shall not be overtaken, and there's not much you can do to make that occur."

"Be careful, Ranistaka. There is only so much we can do for you at any given moment. How goes the mission?" Astaroth carefully directed the conversation away from the animosity between the two.

"Well enough. When I am through, Morrigan and Byanei won't know what hit their precious realm." She smirked. "Though how much time that will take, I do not know."

"And if you fail?" Lucifer snarled.

"If I fail? The whole point is to cause trouble. My existence is trouble. My presence here is chaos. How can I fail?" she laughed heartily at the prospect.

"Be that as it may, Ranistaka, you know the punishment if they capture you. We cannot protect you from that." Beezlebub spoke rarely, but when he did, its weight was felt.

"I'm aware. I've fought up the Hierarchy before, and I can again."

"That's not up for allotment. We are disallowed from letting you."

"What?"

"Exactly what he said. The White Council forbids it," Astaroth spat the name like a bad taste. Ranistaka scowled.

"Let them say what they will. They have no great hold over me. Till we meet again."

The room dispersed into a cloud of predawn darkness. Ranistaka stood, staring blankly, and rather discouragingly, at Astaroth, who had remained.

"Lilith has never been so silent," she stated quietly, questioningly. "It is dangerous for us both to be in this realm."

"There are things we need to discuss that they need not know," he replied, keeping his voice low, as well. "The Gates were attacked this morning."

"I know. I felt."

"Thank you for coming so quickly. I cannot." he laughed harshly, looking at her. 

"You are not born demon. You do not have the blood to do this."

"No, I don't. If you fail, Ranistaka, Hell will go to pieces."

"For an elf-blood to make it so far in Hell is a miracle, and bespeaks you well. Or poorly, depending on the company." She smiled back. "Give the title to Lucifer."

"That I won't do. That would be more chaotic than a weak- willed Satan, ironically."

"A Devil with no control. Things will work out, Astaroth. Make sure you clean out the furnaces tomorrow night. I have a bet on that."

"What, Hell freezing over?"

"I never bet less it's a sure thing."

"Of course." He smiled at her again, sighing. The two were the only banished in the Hierarchy. They were close enough, for all differences. "Come back. I know you don't want to any more than I, but."

"For you, my friend, I would not leave on your shoulders a burden past your bearing." She kissed his forehead, and looked at him. "Go. All shall be avenged in time."


	9. 9

_ "The only reason we know anything is because we're bound and fucking determined never to be wrong."_

_ -Urban Shaman Proverb_

Byanei strode into Dumbledore's office again, absolutely livid. He turned barely in time to duck the objects being flung across the room.

"ARGH!" she roared, shaking in fury in the middle of the room. "The bitch, the whore, the wasted, damned, worthless..."

"What happened?"

"She pulled a Council. The Hierarchy was met, _right in this realm_."

"What?"

"And while the armies were attacking the Gates! It can't… no." The last word was flat and forceful, as though the syllable could change the course of events.

"She held a Council while you were attacking the Gates?"

"And defended the Gates while holding a Council!"

"What?"  
"She's learned something these past few years. She was in two separate realms, doing to separate things, at full strength, simultaneously. It can't be done, Albus."

"But she did it."

"… Yes."

"Then it is possible."

"I can't fight her, I can't capture her, if she can face me in doubles wherever I turn to overtake her."

"Have you considered the fact that we cannot overtake her and still save face? Hell will crash and burn if we remove her from the Hierarchy, Byanei."

"All the reason we put her there in the first place. We have the card over her to send her back."

"Severus has disappeared from us, Byanei."

"If we put her in a position where he is sent to Hell, that their punishments are reversed, she will crawl back to the damnable place like a whipped puppy."

"You underestimate them both. He will never let her, and she would never go."

"Then he would."

"There are ways around that, and she knows them!"

"Astaroth is not worth shit to be called on in the name of Satan, Albus. He's an elf! Elves were never meant to be demons in Hell. Lucifer will tear the place to shreds in minutes, Beezlebub has not the strength, Lilith has not the concentration. Together, they make a formidable force, but there's not one of them I can put in Ranistaka's place without the Apocalypse resulting!"

"You were the one who said she could be held there in the first place! Stop punishing her; give her what she wants in exchange for the service. End their exile and save what's left of our realms! Morrigan-"

"No!" the word shattered the walls and sent nearby birds flying. A Thestral screamed in response. Their eyes locked, and cold dread hit Albus like ice water. This may not be a war goddess, but she was not completely devoid of her sister's strengths. "I will not give in to her. I will not show such weakness before either of them. Let him rot desiring her, Let her burn coveting him, I don't care! She can't. Love. Anything!"

Paint chipped and his teacup trembled with her fury.

"Then," he replied gravely, "you better take one more time the measure of the woman whom you have created."

[A/N- thank you, Jen, for all of it. All I have to tell you at this point is that that is pivotal to the theme of this story. It will all be explained in time, but I think it's awesome you picked up on it! There's another point in this I'm waiting for someone to pick up on, if they haven't already. It involves Byanei. Give me your best guess. *grin*]


	10. 10

She stood, almost invisible, behind Tom as he invoked his callers. She called him a lot of things, when he wasn't listening, most of them insulting, but she could never deny his ingenuity. Suddenly a roar of complete frustration assaulted her mind, and it took a large portion of her self control not to move in response to the shock.

_Just do it!!!_ She screamed in her mind, begging the onslaught to stop.

It did.

Hundreds of black robed, silver masked death eaters circled her and Tom at that moment. Some blankly gawked at her, and she vaguely wondered what kind of impression she made, a short woman with an enormous battle sword, dressed all in black and coated in blood. She smirked lightly at the thought. Who gave a fuck? Should she?

She remained silent as Tom- Voldemort- began their revel in her name.

Severus stood, quietly, blood trickling down his left hand where he had tried to slice the dark mark away. He had made up his mind, he wasn't going, he wasn't going to be among the loyal minions of an insane mortal any longer. He was above that.

Yet something, some force he did not fully comprehend, Fate, if you will, had made him dawn the robes and go, one more time. 

And there she was, right back behind his "master." Her eyes burned with the same venomous delight as they had long ago, though the lines on her face were far more pronounced, her arms scarred in strange traces and burns, TriBlade hanging lightly at her side, her left hand holding the sheath in an iron grip. Her right hung loosely at her side. She smiled in some secret bemusement, and he felt his knees go weak.

So yes, she did still have that effect on him.

Before he could say or signal anything, Lord Voldemort began his opening speech for the night's Revel. He found himself suddenly interrupted by Ranistaka walking away from her position. He did not know what to do, consequently, he did nothing. The ground where she stepped was scorched and pitted black, and smoke rose from the grass, as she walked, right toward Severus. He gulped. This wasn't the place for this. He refused to have her see him like this!

But she stopped, staring dead in the eyes of Lucius Malfoy. She gripped the iron mask and slung it off his face, cracking the metal with the force of the throw. 

"Do you have a problem?" the voice was clipped, dripping with rage, and sarcasm, and challenge.

"No ma'am," Lucius, to his credit, did not back down. But he certainly couldn't muster up the courage to try to charm her.

"Good," she replied. "But I'm inclined to disagree with you."

With that statement, she grabbed him by the collar and slung him over her head, and he crashed, face first, into the base of the podium.

"If anyone else wants to stare at my breasts for extended periods of time feel free- you just have to present your invitation at the door. Understood?" she smirked.

_That's my girl_, and under the mask, Severus grinned madly.


	11. 11

_'Maybe I can do it if I put my back into it.' - Snow Patrol, Ways and Means_

__

Byanei sat in her home, levitating just a few inches off the floor, thinking. She had gotten herself into a wonderful mess, but she was not the kind to even consider admitting the fact- so she was forced to find a way to get herself out of it before the White Council converged tomorrow night. It could only be so difficult- her sister was nearly a slave to the Welsh god of the Underworld. Had been ever since they met. Not that that excused any of it, but still, she shouldn't be. Ranistaka had been created, just as Byanei herself, and their five other sisters, by Lunasa, for whatever purposes the power-hungry goddess thought necessary. The battle against her had been a hard one, splitting the seven sisters as much as anything could.

Ironically enough, they had been on the same side, and back then, Ranistaka was quite content- even happy- with the idea of running the daily comings and goings of hell. But then, one vicious battle with Jesana, the second eldest, had banished her straight out of Avalon. Byanei had lost track of her after that. It was only after a relatively long passage of time that she had begun hearing about the exploits of a pair of Welsh lovers- by the names Macha and Arawn- who had declared themselves at war with the White Council and demanded entrance to the Gates. She had laughed, at first, until the rumors of their fighting reached something beyond what most war gods were claimed capable of. It was only after hearing one of the mortal soldiers complaining about 'not knowing which bloody blade to curse' that she made a point of trying to be at one of the battle grounds. And the man beside her!

There was no mistaking her sister in the flesh- there never had been. But the piece of artwork at her side had caused Byanei's blood to run cold. Then hot. She could still go into fits just thinking about the first time she had seen Arawn. And ever since that moment, she'd been determined to see him through the folly of trying to love her sister. But she had to be sensible... it was far more important to be on the good side of the Councils than that of her sister or her sister's lover.

So she'd come up with the plan that had saved their world.

Now Ranistaka had proved herself quite capable of outdoing her, again, and now she had to figure out a way to keep her ass out of trouble with the stronger goddess.

She was out of ideas- that was the problem.


End file.
